by A. E. Rayne
‘He’s a boy, Jael,’ Gant tried. ‘Of course he’s going to look for opinions elsewhere. Axl’s right. It’s easier to become a king when you’ve got experience. He barely knows how to make a decision for himself at this age, let alone for an entire kingdom. And Getta isn’t making it easy by the look of it.’
Jael didn’t feel inclined to be as tolerant as Gant, and she turned away, her attention drawn to one warrior in particular: Garren Maas. A man with a formidable reputation. ‘I’ve a feeling you’re more understanding than his men. They don’t have any respect for him. You can see it in their eyes. We’re going to have problems.’
All three men turned to her.
‘Is that your dreamer’s instinct talking?’ Aleksander wondered.
Jael shrugged. ‘No idea. But I’m watching. Listening. Remembering how tolerant the Iskavallans are of their kings. Likely Raymon’s in trouble whatever he chooses to do.’ And she turned away, looking for Fyn and Thorgils.
Gant didn’t take his eyes off Raymon, worried that she was right.
Dara knew the man well. He was a dreamer but not a Follower, and she trusted him implicitly. He was her kin after all. A man she had known since he was a boy.
A man she could rely on.
Dara smiled. ‘You have done well, Aemon. Very well.’
He had long, dark hair. Blue eyes that twinkled. ‘It was not a secret, this knife,’ Aemon said, staring at the ivory-handled weapon that he had placed on the table between them, watching the way the flames revealed the symbols etched along its blade. ‘Others know of its existence.’
‘They do,’ Dara agreed. ‘But not many. And those who do can be trusted, I believe. For now. We can keep it a secret, can’t we? They will be dead before long, those old men. I have seen it. And they will take the secret to their pyres.’
Aemon nodded. ‘Yes, you’re right. They did not want to even tell me.’
Dara stood. ‘And you will never tell another soul, I know. This knife will stay with me now. I shall keep it safe. Away from those who would use it for their own ends. Wulfsig made a mistake,’ she said, walking Aemon to the door. ‘Though that mistake may be the best thing he ever did.’
The conversation in the hall had gone on too long for Getta, and she left to feed Lothar in her tent, but once he was sound asleep in his basket, she was still too angry to go back to the hall. It wasn’t dark, but she crawled into bed, wanting to put everything out of her mind. Unable to sleep, she tossed and turned, growing even more irritable, so by the time Raymon stumbled into the tent some hours later, she was ready to burst.
Raymon had been anticipating an attack, but he was not ready for the anger Getta exploded with.
‘You can see what they thought!’ Getta hissed, conscious of how thin the walls of the tent were as they flapped in a strong wind. ‘Aldo and Garren. Your men. You can see the way they looked at the Brekkans. They do not support this alliance!’
‘I shall speak with them. Convince them.’
Getta wasn’t listening. ‘You will be killed. They will kill you!’
Raymon had barely taken off his boots. His head was spinning after too many cups of mead and too much conversation. He blinked. ‘What?’
‘Garren warned me. He said that there were rumours. Talk. About the Furycks. About how they will try to conquer Iskavall after killing you!’
Raymon’s shoulders slumped as he pulled off his wet socks and then his trousers. ‘You would listen to him?’ He wriggled towards Getta, who wriggled away. ‘Garren wants the throne for himself, and he wants to twist everything around so that he’ll get it. Your cousins made sense tonight. I didn’t see ambition in their eyes. Didn’t you look at them? At their men? They’ve just been in a battle. They’ve come for our help, Getta. As we would do if we were under attack. And if we don’t unite our armies, soon it will be us. There is no doubt about it.’
‘According to Jael.’
‘Who is a dreamer.’
Getta sighed, so tired that she couldn’t see a way to make Raymon listen.
But she would. She would. She wouldn’t let him ruin her future or that of her son’s. Raymon may have been tricked into believing Jael and Axl’s ridiculous tale, but she was not as gullible as her husband.
As he would soon find out.
Eydis and Biddy returned with the puppies, though Edela did not say much to them. Her dream about Dara Teros and the knife stayed with her, and she wanted to keep it that way, hoping to find out more. So, after quietly nibbling her way through a perfectly nice stew, she hurried into her bed without a word.
Biddy was surprised but didn’t show it. She knew Edela well enough to feel confident that she would come back to them in her own time. She talked to Eydis and the puppies instead, leaving Edela to roll over and close her eyes, gripping Dara Teros’ note to Jael in her hand, eager to slip back into her dream.
Hoping to find out what Dara had done with that knife.
‘Missing your cousin?’ Aleksander grinned as he stopped by Jael whose eyes were on the door. ‘Looking for another chance to unleash that tongue of yours?’
Jael frowned at him. ‘No. On both counts.’
‘Ha!’ Aleksander had never been bothered by Jael’s temper. In fact, he found it impossible not to enjoy it when she got cross.
Jael threw a hazelnut into her mouth and sighed. ‘I wish Getta hadn’t come. She has Raymon wrapped around her finger like a piece of yarn.’
‘Well, I’m sure if anyone can figure out how to cut that yarn, it’s you,’ Aleksander said, helping himself to the bowl of nuts. ‘You and that sharp tongue of yours.’
Jael frowned at him some more.
‘Though I’ve a feeling you’re in for a fight with Getta. You mightn’t think you have anything in common, but you seem to share the Furyck temper. And Getta looks ready for a battle of words, if you ask me.’
Jael lifted an eyebrow as a thought popped into her head. ‘Perhaps. Or perhaps I’ve got a weapon that will render her completely silent.’ And she leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. ‘You’re a very clever man indeed, Aleksander Lehr. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise!’
And skipping away to look for the mead bucket, Jael couldn’t stop smiling.
Dara stood staring at the knife, her hands by her sides.
It wasn’t made for her. It wasn’t meant to exist at all. But it did. And if there was a chance she could stop Draguta before her sister became everything she had dreamed of... shouldn’t she take it?
She shivered, turning away from the knife, looking around the cottage she had hidden in for years, protected by the gods. Protected by the symbols she had carved around her walls. Across her floor. Safe and hidden.
For what?
Would it really matter if she died now?
The prophecy was written, protected from The Following. The Elderman of Tuura had enough knowledge to go forward. He would pass that on to those who would follow her.
Did it really matter if it didn’t work?
If she died trying to remove the threat her sister posed?
Dara’s shoulders were tight as she adjusted her satchel and blew out the lamp before turning back for the knife. And gripping that cool ivory handle, she slipped it into its scabbard and headed for the door.
29
The day dawned gloomy but dry, and Jael felt relieved, if not slightly irritable as she walked towards the stables to check on Tig. The wind had flapped the walls of her tent all night long, blowing them in and out like a sail in a storm and she’d tossed and turned in a constant state of disturbance.
She saw Getta walking up ahead of her with her servant, who was carrying a baby. Jael wanted to turn and walk away, her mind quickly rushing back to Harstad, but she ploughed on, realising that she couldn’t run away from babies or her sniping cousin.
It was better to face things head on.
‘Good morning,’ Jael said as she caught up to Getta, ignoring the gurgling baby. ‘Did you sleep well?’
>
‘What do you care?’ Getta spat, quickly rounding on her cousin. ‘You may have blinded my husband to your true intentions, but you will never pull the wool over my eyes. I see your ambition glowing like gold. I know what you truly want, what you and your brother have come here to claim, and it isn’t support to defeat a made up enemy! It’s a way to defeat my husband. You think that because he’s young, you’ll be able to confuse him! Trick him! But you forget that you’re facing a Furyck. You’re not the only one who knows how to fight, Jael!’ Getta had to look up a long way to see Jael’s face, but nothing about her appeared intimidated when she took in all those cuts and bruises.
Jael glanced around, but apart from Getta’s servant, and a red-faced woman chasing a runaway goat, there was no one nearby. Bending down, she lowered her voice anyway. ‘You’re not a Furyck,’ she whispered, her eyes on her cousin.
Getta stepped back, her pinched face suddenly blank. ‘What?
‘Your father was not a Furyck. Our grandmother, it seems, had a lover. A merchant from Tingor. He was Lothar’s real father. You’re not a Furyck at all, so your father had no claim to our throne. Nor did your brother.’
It was impossible not to enjoy the horror in Getta’s eyes as she blinked, twitching all over.
‘What are you talking about? How would you know such a thing?’ Getta’s voice was barely a breath. It felt as though everything was spinning around her. She felt sick. ‘You’re making it up! Another game. Another story. You’re making it up!’
‘The Elderman of Tuura told me when he explained why I was Furia’s daughter. Your father was not a Furyck. The dreamers knew it, and your grandmother knew it, as did her lover. But no one else.’ Jael lifted her eyes and saw Ivaar and Karsten heading for the hall.
She felt impatient to leave.
Getta spluttered, sending her servant on her way with a distracted flap of a hand. ‘You have no proof!’
‘I don’t.’
Getta narrowed her eyes. ‘So there is no proof!’
‘I’m not sure that’s true. I could send some men to Tingor if you like? Make some enquiries? Hunt down your real grandfather, if he still lives? Perhaps he had other children? You may have other cousins. A whole family you don’t know about.’
Getta felt herself panicking, heat rushing to her cheeks. ‘There is no need for that!’ She was suddenly conscious of her wide-eyed servant who was still staring at them as she slowly walked away.
Jael tried not to smile.
‘And what will you do now? Humiliate me in front of my husband and his men?’ Getta clenched her jaw, scanning Jael’s face for any sign of her true intentions.
‘It isn’t a weapon, Getta, so I don’t intend to wield it. I just thought it was time you knew that you’re not a Furyck. That it is not a weapon you can wield. Not anymore. Not when I know the truth. And as for your husband, you will do well to support him. He is young, looking for guidance. I would hate you to guide him in the wrong direction. There are a lot of dangerous people about these days.’ And with one last look at her slightly dazed cousin, Jael strode away, already looking forward to drying her boots in front of Reinhard’s fire.
‘Did you have any dreams?’ Eydis wondered from her stool, pushing away the wet noses of Ido and Vella who were impatient to go outside.
Edela froze, her hands on the sock she was about to put on her cold foot. ‘I did. Yes. A scrambled mess of things I don’t understand,’ she mumbled, noting how keenly Biddy was looking at her. Edela didn’t know what to tell her yet. She hadn’t understood her dreams about Dara Teros and the knife, and she was reluctant to reveal anything until she had more information. Her eyes brightened suddenly as a memory returned. ‘I did have a dream about Eadmund, though!’
‘You did?’
Closing her eyes, Edela took a deep breath as Biddy left the tray of hotcakes on the table and came to sit by the fire. ‘He was in Hest.’ She opened her eyes, surprised.
‘I thought Jael said that he was somewhere else,’ Biddy said. ‘Not Hest.’
‘Mmmm, she did. But he is there now. He was with a man. Fighting a man.’
‘Fighting?’ Eydis was worried.
‘Well, training I suppose you’d call it,’ Edela hurried to explain. ‘They were laughing. Using wooden sticks or something. Naked.’
Biddy blinked. ‘They were fighting naked?’
‘I meant bare-chested,’ Edela laughed. ‘Eadmund looked... different.’
‘How?’ Eydis asked.
‘Well, he didn’t look like the Eadmund I remember,’ Edela said, not sure how to explain things. ‘He was sharp-edged. Lean. Hungry.’ She shrugged, realising that she had walked into a dark alley and couldn’t find a way out. ‘He looked like a champion warrior. One you wouldn’t want to fight.’
Biddy frowned at Eydis, not knowing what to make of that.
Edela peered at their worried faces. ‘He was safe. Well. Whatever else is going on, that’s good news, isn’t it?’
‘She’s turning him into a weapon,’ Eydis breathed. ‘Isn’t she? Draguta?’
Edela’s smile vanished, knowing that Eydis was right. ‘Yes. She is.’
‘Then we must hurry, Edela. We must find a way to break the spell before it’s too late. Before she unleashes him upon Jael!’
‘I don’t want you to go,’ Evaine moaned, kissing Eadmund again. ‘Please stay.’
‘Would you rather Draguta was at the door, barking at us both?’ Eadmund grinned, getting off the bed. Evaine’s naked body was a temptation he would usually find hard to resist, but he could almost feel Draguta urging him to the training ring where Rollo would no doubt already be waiting.
‘But what will I do without you?’ Evaine grumbled, following him to the door, too warm to put on any clothes.
‘You can look for a house for us,’ Eadmund smiled, wrapping his swordbelt around his waist. ‘Unless you’d like to stay in the castle, near Jaeger? Spending every night in the hall with him?’
Evaine snorted. ‘I would not.’
‘Good.’ Eadmund kissed her nose, noticing how freckled it was becoming. ‘Then get dressed and find Morac. He’ll keep you company and out of Jaeger’s way.’ Frowning, Eadmund realised that he would have to find out what had happened to his father. Whether Morac had killed him as Jael suspected.
And then he would have to decide what he was going to do about it.
Morac was incredulous. He had avoided the castle, not wanting to see Draguta. Not wanting to face the truth of what she had surely done to his sister, so it was a shock to see that Morana was still in her chamber, sitting on her chair without a scratch on her. ‘She’s letting her live?’
Else nodded. ‘She is. In fact, Draguta insists upon it.’
‘And will she? Live?’ Morac peered at his sister, who looked even more morose than usual as she stared past him to the door.
‘She will. According to Dragmall, she will. There is no illness. Just the curse.’ Else felt as though she was being watched. She kept turning around, worried that Draguta was outside the door, spying, listening. Somehow she had ended up with the task of keeping Morana alive, and Else knew very well what would happen to her if she failed to do so.
Morac felt sorry for his sister, trapped in her prison. He didn’t know how to help her anymore. With Draguta back in the castle, it was not wise to entertain thoughts contrary to hers. And his most important job now was to keep Evaine safe. Eadmund was here, he knew, but Morac didn’t trust him to protect his daughter.
For though Eadmund appeared to have made a lot of changes recently, in a fight with Jaeger Dragos, Morac was certain that Eadmund would lose.
Bending over, Jaeger sucked in a breath. It had been days since he had trained properly and his lungs burned with the reminder. He looked to a slave who stood just outside the ring with a towel and a tray. Holding his hand up to his opponent, Jaeger strode towards him, desperate for water.
His body was dripping from the heat of the morning sun, and hi
s mind was swimming with thoughts of Draguta. He wanted to please her. The desire to make her happy pounded inside him like a drum, and she would be pleased by him getting stronger and sharper, he knew. But he also wanted to hurt Evaine. He didn’t want Eadmund here. He didn’t need him, and nor did Draguta, despite what she might have said.
If she was to have a champion, it was never going to be Eadmund Skalleson.
‘I am impressed,’ Draguta purred, stopping by the training ring. She was going to the tailor’s with Brill, eager to replenish her dwindling supply of new dresses. ‘You almost look like a king.’
‘Almost?’ Jaeger scowled, rolling back his shoulders.
Draguta frowned, sensing what was behind his performance. ‘You will not interfere with Eadmund and Evaine. Eadmund is mine and Evaine is his little toy. Without her, he’ll become morose, which is a headache I do not need. I want both of them here, do you understand me, Jaeger? Together. They are nothing to do with you, and you are nothing to do with them. Understood?’
Jaeger clenched his jaw, but the displeasure in her eyes soon relaxed it. ‘Of course.’
‘Good!’ Draguta said, clapping her hands. ‘Now, get back to your fighting. On my return, I shall inspect our ships. I am eager to see what progress you’re making. We will require a large fleet to repel our invaders.’
‘Invaders?’ Jaeger was confused.
Draguta ignored him, turning to Brill who was fanning herself nearby. ‘Well, hurry up, you miserable creature, and let us get to the tailor’s before he’s drunk on wine and no use to us at all!’
Jael had sent Axl after Raymon as soon as breakfast was over. She wanted Raymon to feel more at ease around them; to hear from someone other than her. And Axl, she decided, was the perfect person for the job.