Susarra wasn't listening. She was rocking back and forth, sobbing into her hands. “How could this happen?” she blubbered. “How could she even cross paths with the King? I told her not to go anywhere near the capital …”
“It matters not. Obviously, Arantha influences Vaxi far more than you do. If the divine goddess allows us to survive the coming attack, I swear on the Stone, you will never touch that girl again.”
“Please, Protectress!” Susarra fell to her knees, using the chair for support. “She's the only family I have left! Don't take her away from me!”
“Do not beg, Susarra!” Kelia thundered. Maeve had never heard Kelia speak with such anger, not even during their argument in the mountains. “I have spoken at length with Lyala. Vaxi's been treated for injuries she couldn't possibly have sustained while hunting: bruises, cuts, all in places where you thought no one would notice. For far too long, I turned a blind eye to her plight. But that's over. I leave you now to contemplate your misdeeds.”
Taking that as a cue to leave, Maeve turned toward the entryway. Kelia did the same, but faced Susarra one last time. “And might I say, if Ilora were here right now, she would express the same disappointment.” Without making a move to help Susarra up, she exited the room, Maeve right behind her. Within moments, the heavy wooden block covered the entryway again.
Liana, who had been listening to their exchange, spoke up. “I must inform the rest of the Council of this revelation,” she said, then bowed and walked toward Katura's home, where she quickly slipped inside.
Maeve followed Kelia across the northernmost bridge spanning the River Ix, but Kelia stopped halfway across, her face creased in consternation. “I apologize for my outburst. Even in captivity, that woman's mere presence is enough to get under my skin.”
“No need to apologize,” Maeve said, placing a hand on Kelia's arm. “She may have believed she was doing the right thing, but anyone who abuses a child deserves no sympathy in my book.”
Kelia turned her attention to the babbling of the water, flowing peacefully beneath the bridge upon which they stood. “The union between Bika and Zarina will take place just after nightfall. After all this unpleasantness, it will be a welcome diversion.”
“Yes, it will.” Maeve smiled. “Where will it be held?”
Kelia pointed in an easterly direction. “About fifteen minutes' walk from here is a small, solitary copse of trees that have grown, over the centuries, into an almost perfect circle. It's where we perform ceremonies such as this. The whole tribe will be there. The girls will wear ceremonial necklaces and white robes, with fresh wildflowers in their hair. I will say a few words, perform the Sharing on them, and pronounce them lifelong companions. Then they kiss, and all will return to the village for a special feast.”
“Sounds lovely,” Maeve said. “And what will everyone else be wearing?”
“Per Ixtrayu tradition, all other attendees will be naked.”
Maeve's already pale skin turned four shades paler, and her eyes widened. “N-naked?” she stammered, looking down as if contemplating the body beneath her sweat-stained clothes. She moved her gaze back to Kelia's eyes, then to her clothes again. “Uh … I …” She fidgeted nervously.
After several more moments of watching Maeve's tormented expression, Kelia burst out laughing. Maeve looked puzzled at first, but then dropped her hands to her sides in comprehension. “Really, Kelia? Really?” she said, and then she, too, erupted in laughter.
Finally, Kelia composed herself. “I apologize,” she said in a completely unapologetic tone. “It's just … you're so serious all the time.”
Maeve's smile diminished, but did not vanish completely. “Yeah, well … I've had a serious life.”
Kelia nodded. “Fear not, my friend. I will see to it that you are attired appropriately.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Sen closed the door as he entered Mizar's study, a forlorn look on his face. He collapsed in the nearest chair, shaking his head.
“You looked everywhere?” Mizar said.
“Yes, Master. I searched every room in the castle where I'm permitted to go. I scoured every courtyard, every corridor. I even searched the armory, under the gaze of two of the King's more … unfriendly guards.” He harrumphed. “One of the stable-hands says he saw a girl in a green dress leaving the castle with Prince Warran, but he only had a fleeting glimpse.”
“Prince Warran?” Mizar repeated, his forehead wrinkling. “Well, let us hope for all our sakes that he does a better job keeping her out of trouble than she's managed to keep herself.”
“You don't think he'll hurt her, do you?” Sen said, his voice quavering.
Mizar shook his head. “I've known Prince Warran all his life. Though he's inherited the King's fighting prowess, and is a natural leader, he's very much his mother's son. I don't believe she will come to any harm.”
“Let's hope so.” Sen steepled his hand over his eyes. “Why couldn't she just stay put?”
“I'll be sure to ask her that exact question when she returns.” Mizar cast a glance at the window set high above his head. “It's getting late. If she hasn't made her way back here by nightfall, I'll send some guards to go find her.” He exhaled. “This is exactly what I was hoping to avoid. The news I'm forced to break to her is no less pleasant than what I'm going to have to tell the King. I'm not looking forward to tomorrow, when he informs the rest of the leaders of what we've discovered.”
“Do you have any duties you wish me to perform, Master?”
Mizar pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “No, Sen, no duties. Just keep out of sight unless I send for you. The last thing I need is two wayward teenagers flitting about the castle.”
Sen's face fell. “Yes, Master.”
Mizar sat down at the work bench. “I'm sorry, Sen. That came out rather more harshly than I meant it to. But tomorrow's summit will represent a pivotal moment in world history; I don't even need Arantha to tell me that. Tensions will be high, and if Aridor is unable to keep the royals from tearing each other apart, then I may be required to intercede. I'm hoping that won't be necessary, but with Viceroy Callis in the room, I fear the worst.”
“I understand, Master. I promise to seclude myself until you say otherwise.”
“Thank you, Sen.” Mizar gestured to the three tomes on the work table. “I have to return The Forbidden Knowledge to the palace archivist.”
“Yes, Master,” Sen said, and both men stood.
Heavy footsteps came from up the corridor. Mizar pictured booted feet belonging to someone with a clear purpose in mind. When the steps stopped outside his door, he gulped in anticipation. Had King Aridor returned?
He heard the sound of the handle turning, and a second later, the wide wooden door flew open, slamming into the adjoining wall. Standing on the threshold was a very angry Prince Agedor.
The young prince stormed into the room, his teeth gritted in barely-suppressed rage. He pointed an accusing finger straight at Mizar's face. “Who is she, old man?”
Mizar's mind raced. Agedor had been short-tempered since childhood, but this was the first time Mizar had been the object of the prince's fury.
He knew he had to tread carefully. He was King Aridor's most trusted advisor, but there was a line with Agedor that he could not cross lest he lose the King's trust. Whatever the prince was fuming about, he had to remain calm in the face of it.
“To whom are you referring, Your Highness?” he said evenly.
“Don't play games with me!” He cast a sidelong glance at Sen, who looked like he wanted to crawl under the work bench to escape the prince's gaze. “That girl! The one you brought here! Who is she?”
Mizar swallowed hard. “Her name is Vaxi. She is my … special guest.”
“ 'Special guest'?” Agedor parroted. “For what purpose have you brought her here? To humiliate me? Because that's exactly what she's done.”
“I assure you, Your Highness, I gave her no such instructions.” M
izar struggled to keep his face blank.
“I demand to know who she is, and where you found her! Unless you're going to tell me that you've set a complete stranger loose in my father's castle!” A sour smirk curled his lips. “How ironic that you can control the elements with such precision, yet you can't control one slip of a girl.”
“Your Highness,” Mizar said, measuring every word, “with all due respect, I am not at liberty to divulge her identity at this moment. All I can tell you is that she has a vital role to play in tomorrow's summit, and I cannot discuss it in detail with anyone but your father. On his instructions, may I add.” He was stretching the truth slightly, but he wasn't about to buckle under the weight of Agedor's temper. Agedor may have been second in line for the throne, but Mizar was still his elder.
Agedor's voice lowered to a sibilant hiss. “How Arantha could bless a commoner like you with such power is beyond me. Why my father thinks he needs the services of a High Mage at all is equally astounding. Your parlor tricks don't scare me, old man. Regardless of what relationship you think exists between you and my father, it would take very little effort on my part to turn the people against you. A few well-placed rumors about how you've lost control in your old age, and the citizens of Darad would be clamoring for your exile … or your head.”
Mizar straightened his spine, matching Agedor's glare in intensity. “I have been your father's most trusted advisor since long before you were born, Your Highness,” he said, resolute. “Never once have I given him, or anyone, cause to doubt my loyalty to him or to his kingdom. Is your pride really so fragile a thing that you would resort to such chicanery?”
Agedor took a step back, his eyes remaining locked upon the High Mage's. “I might be persuaded to forget this incident, and your part in it,” he seethed, “but I want that girl, whoever in the Fire Realms she is, out of this castle, and out of this city, by morning. If she is still here by the time I finish my breakfast, she will be punished most severely. As will you.”
Mizar brought his hands up in front of his chest, palms up, and closed his eyes. A small gust of air seemed to come from the floor, blowing the prince's hair and forcing him to take a step back. “I do not take kindly to threats, Prince,” Mizar said in as authoritative a voice as he could muster. “Especially ones I've neither earned nor deserve. As much power as you hold within the walls of this castle, you do not have the ability to give such an order without your father's permission.”
Agedor's face went white as chalk, and he shook with anger. His eyebrows knitted together, and he turned his visage once again to Sen. “You! Come here, boy. Right now.”
Mizar watched as Sen, unable to decline a royal order, rose to his feet and approached the seething prince. As soon as he was within arm's length, Agedor grabbed the front of Sen's shirt, balled it up in his fist, and yanked him forward. Sen's face went pale, and his eyes widened in abject terror.
“You think yourself superior to me?” Agedor taunted Mizar. “Your memory has grown dull with age, old man. I am a prince. I carry the royal blood of forty generations of my family. You are a farmer's son.” He balled up his other fist. “I don't care that you can set fire to the entire country. You think you are powerful, but I will now show you what true power is.”
With that, he swung his fist at Sen, catching him on the chin. Sen's head snapped back, and he gasped. He did not fall, however, as Agedor still had a firm grip on Sen's tunic. Agedor followed this with another sharp jab to Sen's stomach, then a third blow to his right cheek.
Sen raised his hands to block any further punches, but this only made Agedor angrier. “Let me make this clear, boy … I am going to beat you until I decide to stop. Lower your hands this instant, or I will beat you so badly even you won't be able to heal yourself. Is that clear?”
Sen nodded weakly, panting for breath.
“Say, 'Yes, Your Highness'!” Agedor thundered.
Mizar could only watch helplessly as his apprentice stuttered, “Y-yes, Your Highness.” He lowered his hands, and Agedor delivered a fierce blow to Sen's sternum. Sen choked on his next breath. The pain on his face twisted Mizar's guts into knots.
After two more shots to Sen's body, Mizar could take no more. Consequences be damned, he tried to separate the two. “That's enough!”
But Agedor used his free hand to shove Mizar backward. “Do not touch me, commoner, or you'll be following that girl out the door!” He rained several more blows upon the hapless Sen, who looked like he was about to collapse.
Finally, Agedor let go of the healer's tunic, letting him crumple to the floor in a heap. Mizar was disgusted to see a self-satisfied smile spread across Agedor's face as he pointed to Sen's supine form, barely moving on the stone floor. “That is power, Mizar. I could order his immediate execution if I wanted to, for no other reason than because I feel like it. Far be it from me to kill a boy so young, but you have angered me, old man. I, therefore, give you a choice: either send that girl as far from here as your divine gifts allow by morning, or I will have your worthless apprentice tortured before I personally send him to the Great Veil.”
“You will do no such thing,” said a steely voice from the doorway.
There, clad in full armor and royal cloak, white-hot fury seeping from every pore, was King Aridor.
The prince, taken aback, struggled to regain his composure. “F-father,” he stammered, “you're back.”
Aridor hadn't moved. “Your powers of observation are as sharp as ever, I see.”
“I-I was just –”
“I heard,” the king interrupted. “Every word.”
Before his son could respond, Aridor swung his fist around, catching Agedor on the chin. Agedor staggered back a half-step, covering the spot of impact with his hand.
“Father, I –” he said through his fingers, but the king cut him off again.
“Be silent!” Aridor seethed, his booming voice echoing off the stone walls of the study. He brought his face right up to his son's. “You have the gall to threaten my oldest friend, a man who has done more for Darad than your recalcitrant brain is capable of comprehending, with expulsion, based on nothing more than a slight to your gargantuan ego?”
Aridor grabbed a hold of Agedor's tunic, much like Agedor had done to Sen, and slapped him hard across the face. The prince reflexively brought his hands up in a defensive motion, but Aridor slapped them down. “Keep your hands lowered, boy. Unless you're thinking of challenging me. Is that what you're doing, Agedor?”
For the first time since he entered the room, Agedor's eyes glistened with fear. “No, Father.”
“You are such a disappointment to me,” Aridor seethed. “Your mother and I did all we could to raise you as an honorable man, and yet …” he trailed off. “I see naught but a petulant child, a slave to his own overweening pride.”
He let go of his son, giving him a gentle shove backward. Then he turned his attention to Mizar, who knelt at Sen's side. The young man lay still on the floor. Half of his face was bleeding, bruised, and swollen, and only a few weak moans gave evidence that he was conscious. “How is the lad, Mizar?” Aridor asked.
“Not well, Sire,” Mizar said grimly. “But he'll survive.”
“Will he be able to heal himself?”
“I do not know. I have every confidence in him, though.”
“Good.” To Agedor he said, his voice frosty, “Let me make something clear to you, my son: I will stand for no more of this behavior. Whether you are in this castle, leading your soldiers, or among the citizens, you are representing me. I have let you indulge your ego for far too long. I see that now. But no more. From this moment forward you will conduct yourself in a manner befitting a royal prince, or you will find yourself in envy of the privileges I afford my stable-hands!”
Agedor's eye twitched, but he remained silent.
“Speaking of which, I continue to hear disturbing reports of Vandan incursions in the Celosian Forest. Many travelers and traders have ventured in there, never to
be seen again. Word has also reached my ears that a band of raiders, only days ago, had the temerity to breach our territory.”
Mizar's ears pricked up. He knew to what the King was referring: his and Sen's rescue of Vaxi. Mizar had been forced to kill four raiders in order to save the young huntress's life.
Aridor continued, his voice rising, “It is your job, Agedor, to safeguard that border. If the Vandans get it into their grizzled heads that they can infringe on our borders with impunity, they may decide to come in greater numbers than our patrols can contain. Your job is to serve the people of this realm. If you cannot handle this duty, I will not hesitate to replace you with someone who can.”
Agedor's face twisted in anger. “Those reports are highly exaggerated, Father. Those brainless barbarians would not dare come in force. Our soldiers are too experienced, too well-trained.”
“So you say. But the evidence would suggest otherwise.”
“Father –”
Aridor held a hand up, silencing him. “I don't know how much you know about what's going on in the west, my son, and frankly, I don't care. I have a very important summit to attend tomorrow, at which the very future of Darad, of all Elystra, will be discussed. I want you nowhere near that meeting. You will return to your command tonight.”
“Tonight?” Agedor blustered.
“Yes, and I will be sending Commander Kravos with you. He will be inspecting your troops, your defense plans, your patrol schedules, everything. And if he's not impressed with what he sees, then you will soon find yourself replaced by him.”
Agedor's jaw dropped. “You would dishonor me so? Your own son?”
“All of Darad is at stake, Agedor! My entire army may soon have to be mobilized to combat this Barjan menace and his witch of a sister. Do you think the Vandans would even hesitate to utilize this distraction to invade us? Such a risk, when measured against your precious honor,” he practically spat out the word, “is no contest. Would you not agree?”
Queens (The Wielders of Arantha Book 2) Page 20