“It’s just some scarring.”
Zacry’s niece nodded, horrified, as he stepped through the doorway and asked, “Where’s Francie?”
“In the living room.”
Francie had more tact than Kansten when it came to Zacry’s scarred visage. She didn’t mention it at all, just squeezed his hand when he came close to ask how she was doing. “Better than I expected,” was her response. “Did everyone else make it?”
“Everyone you’d know except Gratton and the king.”
At Zacry’s back, Kansten failed to contain a small shriek. Francie’s face fell; the sorcerer told her, “This doesn’t change your situation. The Magic Council will be fine without you, and I would know. I’m on it. If we needed you to stay, I’d ask you to.”
Kansten reminded herself to breathe. The king, Hune’s father, was dead. At the same time her heart broke for the prince, she knew this meant nothing good for a blossoming royal romance. She had to speak with him; she had to express her sympathies, had to know whether he might continue to see her after this.
Teena rushed over from the kitchen for news. Zacry gave it. Each second that passed before Kansten could pull her uncle aside was a torment, until finally she dragged the sorcerer to a corner by the door.
“You have to take me to the Palace,” she said.
“I’ll do nothing of the….”
“You were right about Hune. I saw him more than once after you warned me not to, and I think, like you suspected, he’s falling hard for me. I have to see him, one last time, to tell him I’m sorry about his father. To tell him I’m sorry I let anything get started between us. He should know I understand we have no future, not after his father’s passing. He’s got enough on his mind right now, Uncle Zac. He doesn’t need to be worrying how to break things off with me.”
“I can’t get you into….”
“I have Vane’s coin still, the one with the Phinnean crest. Listen, I have to see Hune.”
“To tell him you can no longer see him?”
Kansten nodded, looking him in the eye, ignoring the right side of his face. She had never lied so blatantly, and was astounded she found the task so easy.
Zacry brought her to the Palace. He was annoyed Kansten’s willfulness made that necessary, and told her so, so she acted appropriately sheepish until she found herself with Hune.
He was in his antechamber; the room was oddly dark for late morning because his windows faced west and he’d drawn the curtains. He wore black, all black, and appeared to have been sitting alone, thinking. Grieving. As soon as he shut the door, tears sprang to Kansten’s eyes, and she hugged him as she would have any friend.
“I heard this morning. I made my uncle bring me here. I don’t know what to tell you, I….”
He pulled away and led her to a set of adjacent armchairs.
“My father’s gone. I watched Gratton die, and my dogs, I sent them to their deaths. I can still hear them howling. Poor Adage, he vanished before my eyes. Just vanished. Thank God he did, or it would have been Walten. He took some kind of killing spell for Walten.”
Kansten paled. She took Hune’s chin in her hand, to direct his gaze into hers. “My family, they…. I’d be lost without Walt. And I know what your dogs meant to you. I can’t…. I’m so, so sorry for all you’ve lost. The dogs aren’t the half of it.”
“It’s been so quiet in here. Adage slept in this room. I can’t remember the last time I was here without him.” Hune explained, “Thinking of the dogs hurts less than thinking of my father. Kansten, I don’t know that I’ve ever felt this alone.”
“You’re not alone.” She kissed him to prove the point, on impulse. That was either the perfect response or one so horrible it would destroy any chance she had with him; she couldn’t say which, and she chose not to dwell on that. “You’re not alone, not unless you choose to be. Even if you tell me you and I can’t speak again—and I’ll understand, I will, if that’s the case—you have your brothers, and your sister, and Vane.”
Kansten bit her lip, waiting for him to say something. He needed some time, and she began to fear she had, in fact, destroyed everything with that kiss.
“Even my horse is dead,” he told her. “At the stables. That’s where the king….” Hune gulped down the rest of that thought. “Kansten, I can’t lose you too. I have to find out where this leads. I’ll serve my brother in everything I can, but I won’t give you up to better do my part. Tell me you’re not walking away. Tell me….”
She kissed him again, put a hand behind his head at the same time. When they drew apart she said, “I hope that answers that.”
The prince smiled. “I can’t think my father would want me to push you away because your mother’s Kora Porteg. But he’d want me to tell Valkin. Yes, Valkin has to know. If he found out from someone else….”
Kansten swallowed out of fear. She felt the back of her neck grow wet, but she said, “Then let’s tell Valkin. We should see him together, and we needn’t take much of his time for this. Where is he, do you know?”
“My father’s office.”
They had almost reached the door when Kansten clutched at his arm to hold him back. “What about your mother?”
“Leave my mother to me. It’s really the king whose sanction I must have. No matter what my mother thinks, she can’t overrule Valkin. Not anymore.”
“Are you sure this is wise? I don’t think we should…. I don’t mean to cause tension within your family, not now.”
“You won’t, I promise. Kansten, will you trust me on this?”
“I don’t know, I…. Hune, I need to hear something from you. Before we bring your brother into this, I need you to tell me that I’m what you care for: me, as I am. Not the idea of someone who’s separate from your life here, not the idea of turning court on its head. Me. I’ll never think you used me knowingly, but maybe you haven’t realized what you’re really attracted to is the simple idea of….”
Hune kissed her. He leaned her against the door and he kissed her, with such fire in his gaze that it melted her lids together; she shut her eyes, off-guard and overwhelmed. When the moment passed and she looked at him again, he said, “I’ve met women who weren’t noble: kitchen maids, seamstresses, cooks. None of them’s made me feel the slightest thing. I couldn’t care less what you represent, Kansten. I care about you. And that,” he said, breaking out in a childish grin, “should answer that, I hope.”
“I’ll say it does,” she replied. To see him smile through his pain, there was nothing more wonderful.
“So will you trust I know I’m doing, taking you to my brother?”
Kansten nodded, and Hune eased open the door. He led her through narrow, carpeted corridors and past portraits, past a tapestry that depicted an old map of Podrar, up stairs, down more hallways, until he finally stopped before a wide mahogany door. Hune knocked, and someone bade him enter.
Valkin Phinnean, clad in black like his brother, stood in the center of the room. He’d flung a black robe on the circular table, and a small, bound scroll lay on the desk.
Hune bowed. “You remember Kansten Cason.”
Kansten, her cheeks hot, sank into a graceless curtsy. Valkin asked, sounding more surprised than contemptuous, “What’s she doing here?”
Hune said, “I need to tell you something.”
“With her listening?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. I owe you the courtesy of a full disclosure. I’ve seen quite a bit of Kansten since she arrived in Herezoth, and I intend to see more of her. In fact, I intend an honorable courtship. I don’t ask your permission for this. I’m informing you of what I’ll do, because it’s not my intention to cause you trouble. Because I value an honest relationship between us.”
Kansten clenched her jaw and stared past Valkin to the suit of armor that hung behind his desk. The king’s voice, with no small degree of resentment, said, “You don’t ask permission?”
“I’m informing you, because you have the right to know
.”
“And if I forbade you to see her?”
“I repeat, I’m not asking your permission.”
Even Kansten knew this was a charade. How much more, then, must Valkin? Hune would never disobey a direct order from his king. What was he doing? And how was the king reacting to this?
Kansten dared a glance at Valkin. Blood had rushed to his face, and he studied his brother with mixed insult, respect, and even, perhaps, a fair amount of jealousy of what Kansten might come to represent in Hune’s life. He said, “You must really want to see where this relationship leads you, to barge in here like you’ve done.”
Hune said, “You won’t take this from me.”
“No,” Valkin conceded, “I won’t. Your aim is nothing base. But hang it all, take things slowly, won’t you? Be discreet. And don’t you even consider something like elopement, not with the station you hold. You know how that would reflect on me?”
“You’d look powerless to rule even in your family. Valkin, I don’t mean to complicate your reign with this, I swear. This is not me being selfish. This is me claiming one thing in life for myself, just one.”
Valkin sighed, a dejected sigh. A surrendering one. “You deserve to have it. I won’t make you choose between your heart and your sworn oaths to the crown, Hune. I can’t afford to do that, to push you away. Thank you for, eh, informing me of this.”
“I wanted you to hear it from me.”
“I’ve heard. Now I suggest you leave before you give me time to contemplate what just happened.” Hune bowed, and, “Listen,” the king continued, as his guests turned to the door. They looked back at him. “You may be my brother, but if you ever try to force your will on me again….”
“I shan’t,” Hune swore. “This case was unique, and….”
Valkin’s voice was sharp, though it lacked true ire. “I told you to get out.”
Kansten was quick to oblige, and was in the hallway before Hune. She didn’t waste the time to bow or curtsy. She let Hune overtake her, and he led her back to his antechamber, where she said, “If I’d known you’d go about it like that….”
Hune seemed less troubled. Not troubled at all. His smile soothed Kansten’s lurid shame, even before he patted her arm. “You agreed to trust me. We got what we wanted, or didn’t we?”
“That could have been disastrous. What if the king resents you for this?”
“He won’t.”
“What if he’d told you it was me or your family? You’d have chosen your family, Hune.”
“And you wouldn’t have a thing to do with me if I’d choose otherwise. If I’d abandon Valkin in the middle of all this. You can’t imagine how he’s reeling.”
Kansten’s voice was soft. “No,” she admitted. “To be king, in the blink of an eye….”
“He’ll be all right,” said Hune. “He thanked me outright for coming to him, and he’s stingy with those words. You’ve caused no rift between us.”
Kansten sighed. “My uncle will murder me if he finds out about this.”
“So don’t let him find out,” Hune suggested. “Not right away.”
Kansten said, “I don’t intend to,” and her shame attacked again, with guilt and fear as reinforcements. Her stomach twisted at the thought of facing a storming Zacry, at the mere remembrance of his newly scarred face, until Hune kissed her again. That calmed her, completely, instantly, and she found herself kissing him back, smiling when they separated.
“That face suits you much better,” Hune said. “Listen, I won’t claim we’re in for an easy time of it. We’ll have to slow things down; Valkin’s right about that.” Kansten nodded, and Hune continued, “It’s funny, I don’t feel bad for barging in on my brother like I did, but the thought of having to give you less than the attention you deserve….”
“I’m a big girl, Hune.” She put a hand on his shoulder.
“You stayed with Vane’s aunt last night? Will you join him at the Palace now?”
“Unless Vane returns to Oakdowns. I imagine he won’t be able right away.”
The prince’s expression turned grim. “He won’t. Kansten, it was an outright slaughter. Oakdowns isn’t in shambles, but a major staircase fell, and the blood, blood everywhere…. Vane will be at the Palace for a while.”
“It’ll help the king to have him at hand, won’t it? Herezoth couldn’t be in finer hands than your brother’s. I mean that. I won’t deny I find him a bit… uppity.” That brought a chuckle out of Hune. “But Herezoth couldn’t be in better hands, not if you respect him the way you do.”
“I’ll have to tell Valkin that.” When a look a horror crossed Kansten’s face, he said, “Not the uppity part. But the rest of it. It would mean something to him.”
Kansten sank to the settee, and patted the cushion next to her. Hune seated himself there. “Would it help, to talk about your dad? I’d love to know more about him.”
Hune’s eyes turned glassy, with withheld tears, and Kansten took his hand.
“He told me, just yesterday, how proud he was of me. He’d never told me that before.”
Hune talked for a good hour, and Kansten let him. She listened as he reminisced, as he told her Adage had been a gift from the king. She let Hune tell what stories he would, and he only stopped when a knock came on the door, a summons from Neslan. Kansten slipped into a corner, out of view, until Hune dismissed his family’s servant. Then she said she knew the way out.
She had directions from her uncle to return to Teena’s, and tried to enjoy her first amble through Podrar. That life continued as normal outside the Palace was surreal to her; the public still knew nothing of Rexson Phinnean’s death.
Near Teena’s cottage, Kansten spied the mutt she had seen once before through the parlor window. She found him in a dirt-packed alley between some taverns and a haberdasher’s shop; he was rummaging through leftovers a cook had thrown out.
The dog—a puppy, really—was a curious animal, and while dirty, showed no signs of disease. Kansten knelt and called him to her. He stared at her for minutes, doubting, nibbling now and then on a chicken bone, but finally her persistence won out. He came to her. She scratched his floppy ears, and he settled on the dirt to let her rub his belly. He was thin, but not dangerously so, and small enough that Kansten imagined she could bathe him in Teena’s largest bucket.
“You sweetheart! You’d adore Hune, just adore him. And he’d take good care of you. I have to bring you to him…. You need a name, don’t you? How about Trite? I think Hune would like that. Trite was Sir Adage’s horse, after all, in all those stories. And he wasn’t a thoroughbred.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Laskenay
Kora and her family returned to Traigland the day after the battle for Oakdowns. While Zacry went home to acquaint his family with his scar, Kora and her sons transported to Parker’s smithy. They found him at his anvil as red-faced as usual, his thin shirt soaked and sticking to him. Two other smiths were also working, so Parker said nothing, but he mouthed what Kora assumed was a five-syllable prayer of gratitude.
He left his horseshoes to wipe his face and neck with a towel, and then his arms. He led his family outside and hugged his sons tight. Neither seemed to mind the sweat that transferred to their clothes any more than Kora did, come her turn; her dress was nothing special, a frock she wore to clean the house. When Parker sent the boys to continue his work and hugged his wife a second time, he lowered his head to kiss her before she could rise to her toes.
“I told you I’d protect the boys,” she said. “Zacry’s scarred, but everyone’s alive. Everyone but Rexson.”
Parker let out a slow whistle, and his lips went thin. “Are you all right?”
“An arrow got him. I told him to keep down, but he came to defend me, and he…. He died, Parker. There’s only me and Hayden now.”
Parker held an arm around her. “I know what he meant to you before you came here. And I know what you meant to him, if the way you talked about him was anything
close to the truth. Kora, I never hated the man because of you, you know that?”
“You’ve never been possessive.”
“I would have been jealous, if you gave me some reason not to trust you. You never judged me something less than him. And you’re cracked for that, you know, seeing who he was and that I’m a smith.”
“He’d never have judged you something less than him either. He was… surprisingly humble.”
“He never once tried to take you from me, and well, I could only respect him for loving you.” Parker smiled. “Showed he had good taste.”
“He was terrified I’d be discovered at the battle. That he’d be forced to hang me. It doesn’t make sense he was the one who died.”
Kora touched her bandana. She rarely played with her headwraps and knew she’d look self-conscious, so to explain the gesture, she had to remove the fabric. Parker’s eyes grew wide when he realized what was missing from her forehead.
“It’s in my pack,” she said. “I slept at Oakdowns last night, and when I woke up, it was on the pillow. I didn’t know what to think. What to do. I haven’t told anyone, not even Zac. I put on my bandana like normal and….”
“And came here.” Parker strengthened his hold on her waist. She was glad for the support. She had felt unsettled all morning, ever since that “dream” had come upon her in the dead of night.
It appeared to be a dream, and yet was more substantial. Kora’s senses felt strengthened, not diminished from her waking life. The acids churning in her stomach brought a hand to her mouth as she recognized the domed space in which she stood.
A gold chandelier. Marble floors. An extravagant, curved staircase with two wings that met at each landing. A wall with five sets of double doors some yards from the spot she occupied. They led to hallways, one of which had brought Kora at the age of eighteen to this very room. Here she’d confronted a mob determined to kill a sorcerer.
The vestibule of the Crystal Palace.
The King's Sons (The Herezoth Trilogy) Page 36