“I’m thinking of sending you into exile.”
Stellan glanced at the king a little worriedly. It was impossible to tell from his tone if he was serious. “Exile?”
“Of a sort. Things have been rather strained in Torlenia since the new Imperator came to power. Lord Jorgan—whom we both know is not renowned for his patience—finally lost his temper with him a few days ago over this business of who has sovereignty in the Chelae Islands. He’s been thrown out of Ramahn. I need a new ambassador. Reon’s suggesting—very loudly—that it should be you.”
“And you’re actually considering it?”
Enteny shrugged. “The idea has merit, Stellan. After Caelum, Torlenia is the most contentious ally we have and you are—without question—my most accomplished diplomat. You were high on my list of suitable contenders anyway. Placating Reon Debalkor is just a bonus, really.”
“Will the knowledge that I have no wish to leave Lebec, especially for a place like Torlenia, do anything to influence your decision?”
“It might have once,” the king replied with a scowl. “Before you brought Mathu here and caused all this fuss.”
Stellan shook his head, unable to believe what he was hearing. “But there’s the estate to consider and I would have to speak to Arkady. She may not want to leave…”
“You have plenty of staff and an efficient estate manager,” the king reminded him. “He never had any trouble in the past looking after your affairs while you’ve been away. As for Arkady—she is your wife, Stellan; she will go where you do. In fact, she’s half the reason I’m tempted to send you to Torlenia, anyway. I adore the girl, you know that, but you allow her far too much freedom. You’ve been married six years. You should have half a dozen brats running around the palace by now. In Torlenia, with no university to distract her, Arkady can get on with the prime function of her gender, which is to bear the next generation.”
Stellan was glad Arkady wasn’t here to witness the king’s declaration, quite certain she would not have been able to hold her tongue. As it was, he could imagine her reaction when he informed her of this disastrous turn of events. Although the king had said he was only thinking about sending them to Torlenia, the more he spoke, the more certain he seemed, almost as if he was talking himself into it. Karyl Deryon had warned Stellan the king was displeased with their childless status, although he certainly hadn’t hinted at a foreign posting as a solution.
“It would be awkward,” Stellan suggested carefully, “for me to leave Lebec at the moment.”
“Why?” the king demanded.
“Well…for one thing, we have this business with our Caelish agent…”
“Declan tells me the Caelish have never heard of him.”
“They’re claiming that now,” Stellan agreed. “But Arkady is convinced he’s been sent here to stir up the Crasii. Until we’ve gotten to the bottom of it—”
“Hand the prisoner over to Hawkes,” the king ordered. “A few days with his boys and a red-hot poker should settle the matter one way or another.”
“Your majesty, we can’t torture the prisoner. If the Caelish learn of it, we have people in their prisons who will suffer a similar fate.”
“But they’re denying he belongs to them, so they can hardly object to the way we’re treating him, can they?” The king waved his arm dismissively. “No. Let’s be done with this nonsense. It’s simply more proof of what I was saying about your wife, anyway. She shouldn’t be getting mixed up in things like this. She should be at home, having babies like a proper wife.”
Stellan sighed, wondering how he was going to break the news to Arkady. Even if she took it well—which was unlikely—he was convinced this was a terrible idea.
“Enteny…,” Stellan began.
“I’ll sweeten the deal,” the king offered, before Stellan could object any further.
“How?” He couldn’t imagine any circumstance that was going to make this untenable situation easier to bear.
It’s odd, he thought. You spend all your time worrying about one thing, and when the axe finally falls, it comes from a totally unexpected direction.
“I’ll agree to a betrothal between Mathu and Kylia.”
Stellan was speechless.
The king smiled. “Aha! You didn’t know about that one, did you?”
“Know about what? I never suggested…”
“No. But Mathu did.”
“Mathu?”
Enteny nodded. “He was in my ear about it the moment I arrived in Lebec. And his mother’s ear, too, and you know how she can never say no to him. He wants to marry your niece and I’m inclined to let him, because although I think Reon has a right to be angry, the idea of strengthening the family ties between Venetia and Herino doesn’t seem all that attractive any longer.” The king let out a short, sceptical laugh. “If this business has achieved anything useful, it’s reminded me how dreadful it would be to have the Debalkors as in-laws. Reon’s bad enough when I only have to put up with him a few times a year at court. Imagine what it would be like to have him as a close member of the family.”
“I thought you were resolved to have Mathu remain unmarried for a while longer? At least until the Caelish have gotten used to the idea that he’s never going to marry Princess Nyah?”
“You took care of the Caelish, didn’t you? You told me they’d accepted the reasons for our refusal of Nyah as a viable wife for the Glaeban crown prince.”
“I said they appeared to have accepted it. Until we have proof this Lakesh fellow isn’t one of their agents…”
“Oh, for pity’s sake, stop with this spy nonsense, cousin!” the king ordered. “You’ve no more proof he’s a Caelish spy than I am. Declan will settle the matter once and for all and that will be the end of it.”
Stellan wasn’t going to give in so easily. “Kylia’s only seventeen.”
“Plenty old enough to marry. And I gather she’s very favourably disposed to the idea.”
“She’s too young to understand the consequences.”
The king frowned. “Are you refusing my offer?”
He shook his head. “I’m just pointing out that Kylia may not understand what it means to marry the crown prince.”
“You underestimate your niece, Stellan. Take some of the credit for raising her well. Her breeding is impeccable, her education ideal, her family beyond reproach, and she’s young enough to be guaranteed a virgin, something I’m not completely convinced of, by the way, about Sarina Debalkor. In fact, it couldn’t be more perfect. You take care of Torlenia for me, I’ll take care of your niece, and we’ve effectively taken care of Reon Debalkor and thumbed our noses at Caelum in the process. It’s a grand idea, don’t you think?”
“Does it actually matter what I think?” Stellan asked.
Enteny gripped Stellan’s shoulder and smiled encouragingly. “Don’t be like that, Stellan. I’m offering your girl the chance of a lifetime. Your niece will rule Glaeba someday.”
The unfairness of it left Stellan feeling as if he’d been winded. “Even assuming I wanted that for her—which I don’t—you’re sending me into exile to placate a man you can’t abide!”
The king shook his head. “I’m sending you to Torlenia because I need you there, cousin. The Chelae Islands are too strategically important to leave in the hands of an enemy and not strategically important enough to go to war over. There’s nobody I trust better than you to point this out to the Torlenians. Cheer up! Reon may think I’ve exiled you, but his triumph won’t last long once I announce the engagement between Mathu and Kylia.”
Stellan sighed dejectedly, the futility of arguing with the king when his mind was set something he’d learned long ago. The mist was starting to lift from the lake, he noticed out of the corner of his eye, the sun piercing the clouds like lances of light. If the rain held off and the king had not just destroyed his entire world with a few simple words, it might have been a beautiful day today. “Can I ask one boon, your majesty?”
&
nbsp; “If it’s a reasonable one.”
“Don’t make the announcement yet. Let me speak to Arkady, first. And to my niece. I want to be certain Kylia appreciates what she’s getting herself into and isn’t just caught up in the throes of some fleeting girlish crush which may vanish as soon as the reality of her situation sinks in.”
“You can speak to them at breakfast.”
“Arkady may have already left for the day.”
The king thought about it for a moment and then nodded. “You have until the end of the week, then. I will make the official announcement at dinner on the last night we’re here in Lebec.”
“I was hoping for a little more time than that.”
“You’re lucky I’m willing to grant you that much. I am still more than a little vexed with you, cousin, for causing me all this grief.”
“As you wish, your majesty,” Stellan agreed unenthusiastically.
Tides, how did this happen? he wondered as they turned and headed back across the lawn to the palace. An hour ago, he had control of his life and the lives of those for whom he was responsible. Suddenly, it had all slipped from his grasp. Kylia is going to marry Mathu Debree, while the rest of the household is being sent into the brutal, scorching deserts of Torlenia because I committed the crime of saving the king and queen from a scandal.
Stellan wondered who was going to take the news worst.
His wife, Arkady, who would be required to give up everything for which she’d worked so hard?
Or Jaxyn Aranville, the lover he was going to have to leave behind?
Chapter 30
“I’m honoured, your grace,” Cayal announced with a mocking bow when Arkady arrived at the prison for her interview.
“Honoured by what?” she asked, as Timms placed her chair in the corridor between the cells. She was tired after the ball last night and knew there’d be consequences resulting from her absence at the palace for breakfast, but for some reason, she couldn’t stay away. Although she told herself the urgency of her mission had increased tenfold due to the king’s visit and the news that Cayal had been disowned by Caelum, the truth was much more straightforward. Despite telling herself over and over that she didn’t believe a word of it, Arkady wanted to hear the rest of Cayal’s story.
She wanted to know how he became immortal.
“The king is here in Lebec,” Cayal reminded her. “And yet you’ve eschewed his royal company for mine. I’m flattered.”
“Don’t be.”
“Wasn’t the famous King’s Ball held last night?”
“How did you hear about that?”
“We’re not completely cut off from the outside world in here,” he said, leaning against the bars. “Are we, gemang?”
“The guards spoke of the king’s annual visit,” Warlock informed her, rising to his feet. He was such a huge beast, easily one of the largest canines Arkady had ever seen. But he seemed so gentle. So civilised; even under the constant provocation of his aggravating cellmate. Arkady found it hard to believe Warlock was here because he’d killed a man with his bare hands. “They spoke of the ball held in the king’s honour each year.”
“What else do the prison gossips say about the king?” she asked curiously.
“They say he’s a right old bore,” Cayal replied. “And that you were wearing quite a stunning red dress.”
Arkady’s eyes widened in surprise.
Cayal smiled. “You look worried, your grace.”
“I am, a little,” she admitted. “I can’t imagine how you know what I was wearing last night.”
“Same way I heard about the king. Magic.”
Arkady smiled suddenly. “Magic, eh? I think there’s a far more likely explanation.” She glanced over her shoulder at Timms, who for once was showing no inclination to reach for his truncheon. “Your wife is a seamstress for Lady Kardina, isn’t she, Mister Timms?”
“Yes, your grace.”
“And she was undoubtedly on hand last night to sew Lady Kardina into her gown, and still there when her ladyship returned home in the early hours of this morning, when her extremely fashion-conscious mistress would have described every dress she’d seen last night in great and glorious detail, including mine. I imagine the news travelled from her, to her husband to you. Hardly magic, Cayal. Just good, old-fashioned gossip.”
“Tides, are you such a killjoy about everything?”
“It’s one of my more endearing traits, I always thought.”
He smiled at her as Arkady realised with alarm that she was all but flirting with him. Idiot, she told herself sternly. “So, are you willing to tell us more of your tale?”
“Have you spoken to the Warden about us getting some fresh air?”
“I’m meeting with him after we’re done here this morning.”
“So you want the next instalment on credit.”
Arkady sat down and opened her satchel, the act of searching for her notebook giving her an excuse not to meet his eye. “I suppose you could say that.”
“Why should I trust you?”
“Why shouldn’t you trust me?” she asked, looking up. “You expect me to take you at your highly suspect word. It’s only fair, don’t you think, that you return the favour?”
Cayal thought on that for a moment, and then he shrugged. “Fair enough. I’ll take you at your word.”
“That’s very big of you,” she couldn’t stop herself from retorting.
“Don’t take your sore head out on me, your grace,” he chuckled, amused for no reason Arkady could explain.
“I do not have a hangover.”
“No,” he agreed thoughtfully. “I don’t suppose you do. You probably never drink to excess. You probably don’t do anything to excess, do you?”
“Whether I do or not, it’s hardly any of your business.”
“Is it hard work, being so perfect all the time?”
She met his eye evenly. “Actually, I find it’s no work at all.”
Cayal held her gaze without flinching. “Good answer. You really are quite the clever one, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Modest, too.”
She sighed impatiently. “Are you actually going to tell me anything this morning, Cayal, or just stand there trading insults?”
“Why? Have you someplace better to be?”
“The King and Queen of Glaeba are currently guests in my home,” she reminded him. “Believe me, there are plenty of other places I could be.”
Plenty of other places you should be, an accusing voice in her head reminded her.
Cayal bowed dramatically. “Then we are truly honoured by your presence, your grace.”
“As you should be. You were telling me how you met Arryl, the Sorceress,” she reminded him, her pen poised to take notes. “Please continue.”
Cayal turned his back on her, leaning against the bars. “I told you already—Arryl wasn’t a sorceress. She can barely sense the Tide, let alone wield it.”
Arkady sighed, wondering if he would ever falter, even slightly, in the telling of this wild tale. She’d been hoping to shake his story, trip him up in a lie, but he never seemed to miss a single detail. “Can’t all Tide Lords use magic?”
“Arryl is merely immortal. That doesn’t make her a Tide Lord.”
“It does according to the Tarot.”
“And haven’t I spent hours trying to convince you that your precious Tarot is about as useful as tits on a melon, Arkady? We’ve had this discussion before. You don’t listen very well, do you?”
She ignored the jibe, still hoping to expose a crack in his story. “So all Tide Lords aren’t immortal?”
“All immortals aren’t Tide Lords,” he countered.
“What are they, then?”
He shrugged. “Just immortal.”
Arkady raised a brow curiously. “Just immortal.”
Cayal looked over his shoulder at her. “It takes all kinds, Arkady, and even immortals need friends. That’s what Dia
la used to do, you know, although she’d deny it if you accused her of it—make new friends.”
“You called her the Minion Maker.”
“Minion…friend…in Diala’s world there’s not a lot of difference.”
“Is that how you became immortal? Are you one of Diala’s minions?”
Cayal snorted contemptuously. “She wishes…”
“Then how did you achieve immortality?”
He pushed off the bars and turned to look at her. “You mean other than having my name enshrined in the annals of everlasting superstition and stupidity by being named as the first card in your wretched Tarot?”
“Yes,” she agreed with a faint smile. “Other than that.”
“I asked for it.”
“Why?”
“Immortality’s a bit like a sure bet at the races, my lady. It seems like a really good idea at the time. It’s not until you’ve lost everything you ever owned that you start to wonder about the wisdom of gambling.”
“So you’ve rethought your position?”
“I’ve had eight thousand years to rethink my position.”
“Too much reflection can be a dangerous thing,” she warned.
Cayal nodded solemnly in agreement. “More dangerous than you know, my lady.”
“Then how about a little less reflection and a little more information?” Arkady suggested. “You were telling me how you travelled the world looking for redemption.”
“Did I say that?”
“Words to that effect.”
“Then I suppose you’ll want to hear the rest of it…”
Chapter 31
It took time, but I healed completely from the attack, even my teeth were restored. I knew it was the result of something the priestesses had done to me. I’d felt them working their magic, even in the semi-conscious depths of my pain, but every time I questioned Arryl about it, she simply smiled and told me to thank the Tide for my blessings.
Strange, don’t you think, that it never occurred to me—or Arryl, for that matter—that there was anything unusual in the notion I could feel the magic? In hindsight, I’m certain she said nothing to Diala about it. I would never have been offered the chance to become immortal by Diala if she thought for a moment that I might one day be a threat to her.
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